


The Art of Surviving

by susieS



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Panic Attacks, Romance, allison is not really dead, mentions of character deaths, stiles comforting lydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:04:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susieS/pseuds/susieS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s only been a few months since everything happened and Lydia doesn’t think it’s okay for Stiles to joke about all of it when the wounds are still so fresh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Surviving

**Author's Note:**

> This is stydia coping after 3b. It didn't really turn out how I would have thought but here it is anyway. Enjoy!

They are lying on his bed doing homework like normal teenagers would do. She remembers vaguely doing this when her biggest worry was indeed getting all her homework done. Now it seems so inconsequential and that was exactly the reason Lydia is doing it. It is so refreshingly ordinary.

They lie side by side, shoulders brushing against each other and she tries to focus on the calculus homework that she could do in her sleep but now even that seems hard.

She likes this, that they don’t have to talk about anything, not that bad stuff, not about a single thing and they are completely comfortable. All she really wants to do is lay here with him, close her eyes and leave the world behind for a moment. Cause even though how fast she runs, the world seems to be always catching up to her.

“Okay, we’ve been studying for like half of forever and it’s been all fun and great but I declare official break time. Cause I can’t sit still for one more second.”

Stiles rambling jolts Lydia out of her thoughts and she takes a few second to adjust.

“Stiles we’ve been studying for around an hour. That’s not even long.”

“Yeah, well an hour is a relative term so compared to, I don’t know, ten minutes, it’s a long time!”

“Well actually a relative term is a term that makes two or more very distinct references to one or more object. But I suppose you are referring to the colloquial meaning of a relative term which-”

“Oh my god, Lydia!” Throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly. “I ordered break time. Besides, my house, my rules.” Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest childishly, pouting adorably.

“It’s not like you own this house, cause I’m pretty sure your dad does.”

“Oh, Lydia stop complaining, I know you love studying but even natural-born geniuses gotta take breaks once in a while.” Lydia isn’t necessarily nagging because she wanted to continue studying, but because she just wants to stay right here, on his bed, him next to her, shoulders still brushing against each one another’s. But instead she complies to him.

“Fine, what do you suppose we do then?”

“Well I’m starving so-”

“No surprise there.”

“Yeah, well I’m growing boy, I gotta eat!” Stiles utters indignantly, rising from the bed. Lydia suddenly feels very cold. “Anyway, I’m getting something to eat, do you want something?”

“I’ll just have some sparkling water, thank you.”

“Anything for the queen.” Stiles says, bowing mockingly in front of her. Lydia glares daggers at him but his smile bright blinds her.

He turns to leave and heads for his door. He reaches out for the door handle, but then abruptly stops. He doesn’t move. Or make a sound.

“Stiles.” Lydia calls, shifting into sitting position on his bed. “You okay?”

Stiles lets his hand drop from the door handle, then slowly begins to turn towards her. When he finally turns to face her, she sees his face. It is blank like a sheet of paper, so un Stiles like. Lydia’s heart jumps to her throat. 

His face is devoid of emotion and Lydia can’t seem to remember how to breath.

Devoid. De-void. They were supposed to be rid of it forever.

He cocks his head at Lydia, his face unreadable. And it scares the shit out of her.

“Stiles?”

“Stiles isn’t here anymore.”

Her heart drops to her stomach and she jumps off the bed backing away from him. She trips on few books that are laying on her floor and she stumbles. _No no no no_ , she thinks. This isn’t supposed to happen. The nogitsune is dead. She herself saw as it crumbled into nothingness right in front of her. How did it get back? Why why why can’t it just leave Stiles alone? Hasn’t he been through enough?

“How the hell are you still alive?” Lydia attempts to keep her voice steady, her face stoic, but her voice quivers ever so slightly and she is about to cry.

And then he burst out laughing.

He doubles over clutching his stomach, his sweet laugh swallowing the silence that had filled Lydia’s room. He lifts his face, his hazel eyes piercing her soul, his smile tearing her apart.

“Lydia you should see your face right now. It’s priceless. Calm down, I was just joking.”

Joking? _Joking?_ Oh, so their joking about it now. It might be one of Stiles coping mechanisms, like how he hides all his deepest insecurities with a few sarcastic lines, but Lydia won’t have it. It hasn’t been long enough for them to be at the stage that they can joke about the thing that happened to them. She’s not sure if they will ever be at that stage. 

Joking? Really? Is he actually going to joke about all that horrid things they’ve been though. How can be so cruel?

And before she really comprehends it herself, she is launching herself at him, pounding her small, powerless fists against his chest, hurling incoherent insults in his face.

Because, no, he does not get to joke about it. He doesn’t have the right. 

“Lydia, Lyds. Lydia! Stop, I was just joking! I’m sorry!”

He is able to catch her flailing arms in his solid grip, nimble fingers curling around her delicate wrists. She is still thrashing, but he holds her firmly, slightly aloft so she can’t pummel him anymore. Eventually she gives up, but he doesn’t let go. She is breathing hard, her breath coming out in short, strangled pants because, she realizes now, she is crying. The tears cascade down her ivory cheeks, soaking the top of her blouse. She can’t stop crying.

“Lydia, I’m so sorry. Just breath okay, calm down.”

_Calm down?_ He wants her to calm down. Really? She can’t. She is too riled up, her emotions she keeps so well in check bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over completely. She is always calm, collected. Even she deserves to let go sometimes.

She is fighting to get air into her lungs, sucking in strangled breaths that come out as uneven gasps. Tears blur her already hazy vision, and she can barely see the concern that  falls over his features. She is seeing tiny black spots that she tries to count to calm herself, but she feels dizzy and she can’t concentrate. And even amidst this unexplainable hysteria, she can diagnose the symptoms with clarity. A panic attack.

She is losing, the panic slowly settling over her, enveloping her, strangling her. And the only thing anchoring her to reality is his steady hands still clutching her clammy ones. She can barely hear his panicked voice over the waves roaring in her ears and it scares her. She needs to hear him.

And suddenly she can’t breath at all. It’s good because right now she needs to hold her breath. _Hold your breath. Because Stiles is kissing you._

Everything is very still, calm. That’s what he said, right? Calm down. Calm. The tsunami wave soothes down into smaller waves, simply rippling silently in her ears as she lets herself get carried away by the boy with hazel eyes.

His lips meld impeccably against hers and he tastes like something from her dreams.

Yet, she rips herself from him, from his lips, from his grasp, his hands finally releasing her. Because he can’t think it’s just okay to joke about that horrible, awful, terrible thing that they endured then kiss her to make it okay. No.

“No, no, you don’t get to do that.” She hiccups pathetically. She takes a few distancing steps away from him, because she can’t stand too close to him right now, cause he looks just so broken and all she really wants to do is run into his loving embrace.

“You don’t get to just kiss me and make it all okay again. Because, you know what Stiles? It’s not okay, okay? Right now, everything is still just as horrible as it was a few months ago, at least for me. I can’t, okay? I can’t move on, forget and live my life like a normal human being anymore! I can’t sleep! I’ve seen to much, I’ve lost too much!” She is screaming now, her voice tearing at her vocal chords but she used to this. And he is just standing there, looking so utterly helpless but she needs to say this because she’s pretty sure she might explode if she doesn’t.

“I see her everyday. Everyday I wake up and for a blissful second I think she is still alive and well, and every time the realization hits me tens times harder and sometimes I just can’t get out of bed cause I’m crying so hard. I see him too. All the people we’ve lost and I just can’t handle it. So, no, you don’t have the right to joke about it, you idiot! And I almost lost you too.” She is crying again, tears streaming openly down her face. He is crying too. And they just stand in her room silently, crying, exposing their hearts to one another. And then, as if from a mutual agreement, the two surge forward, crashing into each other, gripping at each other like their lives depended on it. Maybe they do.

His voice is like silk as he whispers rushes apologies and comforting words in her ears but she doesn’t want to talk, to have to listen to him apologize cause it’s not his fault. So she angles her head, momentarily stealing his gaze before capturing his lips with hers.

Everything might not be okay or even close to okay, but right now she in his arms, he is in her arms and he’s alive. They’ve survived this far and now that they have each other maybe they can endure a little longer. 


End file.
